Healing the Highlander (25 page)

TWENTY-
FIVE

Considering how off-balance and lacking in proper coordination her body felt, she was doing pretty well to have located the balcony so quickly.

With a contented sigh, Leah walked to the edge, looking down into the courtyard below where a crowd still gathered around the tables that had been set up out there.

The entire day had been like something out of a fairy tale. An X-rated fairy tale, to be sure, but a fairy tale nonetheless.

Fairy tale. Faerie tail.

She snorted aloud as her mind played with the words, slapping a hand over her mouth to cover her case of giggles.

Just look at all those people down there. How many of them knew they feasted on food served by Faeries?

Most likely none or they'd be hard-pressed to be so happy.

"There's a lot you people don't know," she whispered into the night.

All of them laughing and eating and visiting, seeming to thoroughly enjoy the celebration of her wedding.

If they only knew the truth of it, would they still be carrying on like that? If they only knew that this marriage was a sham? A temporary convenience at best?

Very soon, this part of her life would be over and she'd return to her self-imposed seclusion at MacQuarrie Keep.

Unless . ..

What if Rosalyn had accurately judged her son's feelings? What if the seemingly undeniable physical attraction she felt for Drew was really a sign of something bigger, something that would last forever? What if he truly was the Soulmate her mother had promised awaited each of her children?

Faint strains of music floated to her, bringing with it an old memory, so potent, so powerful, it gripped her heart, refusing to be pushed away.

Her mother, bent over the coffee table in their tiny living room, winding the little key on the music box that had been a wedding gift from her own true love.

Tinny strains of that music filled Leah's mind, as real as if she were back there in that room again. Without thought, her feet moved into the comfortable waltz pattern of old. How many times had she done this with her mother?

It had been her time with Mama. Her time, while Destiny and Chase were away at school. Her time, when Mama would tell her stories and share her secrets. Secrets about life. Secrets about the Fae.

The music would start and Rainbow would clasp Leah's small hands, twirling her around and around, her off-key voice continuing the song long after the music box had gone silent.

"Some—where—my—love," Leah took up the refrain now, dancing alone on the darkened balcony.

She'd been so young then, not yet in school, and even at that age she recognized the sorrow that would eventually take her mother from her.

So lonely. Her mother had been so lonely for the man she'd loved with all her heart. The Faerie who'd left her, taking with him half her soul. The Faerie responsible for the magical gift that had plagued Leah's life.

"No, baby," her mother would say as she'd wound the little key. "Don't be sad for Mama. These are happy tears. It happens like this sometimes. I know I'll be with your daddy again one day. That's how it's all meant to work. We're Soulmates, destined to be together like two halves of one whole. Somewhere, someday, in some lifetime, we'll find each other again and then we'll both be so happy."

"Some—where—my—love," Leah sang. Eyes closed, she danced with the woman in her memory, slipping into her own off-key hum to accompany her steps when the words failed her.

Was she so much like her mother? Would it be the same way for her? Biding her time, waiting for this lifetime to end in hopes she could get on to the next one, that one special lifetime where she and her own Soulmate could finally be together.

Or maybe, just maybe, this was her one special lifetime and if she didn't wake up to reality and make the right choices, she risked wasting her one chance at true happiness.

Now if she could only figure out how to determine the truth of it.

"Good Lord, Leah. 'Lara's Theme'?"

Leah's eyes flew open and she grabbed for the railing next to her as her feet stumbled to a stop. Ellie walked toward her, a wide grin covering her face.

"I should have guessed. No wonder Rosalyn's so happy. You really are the perfect wife for Drew, aren't you?"

"Should have guessed what?" Leah's brain felt as though it was wrapped in a big wad of cotton, blurring all her thoughts, making her work extra hard just to think them. It was as if there was something in her sister-in-law's words she should have picked up on, something that needed comment, but she simply couldn't filter it out of all the fuzz right now.

Leah stepped forward and her head spun, forcing her to grab for the railing again.

"I knew the minute I saw you leave the table that I should have thought to warn you about the ale. It might taste good, but it has a mule's kick. I avoid it like the plague, personally, but then I'm not much of a drinker. Come on." Ellie put an arm around Leah's shoulders, leading her to the door and inside. "Let's find that man of yours and get him to put you to bed so you can get some rest."

Ellie wanted Drew to put her to bed so she could get some rest? Giggles overtook Leah again at the prospect.

Ellie sure didn't know Drew very well. "Rest" didn't seem to be something she and Drew were capable of when they were alone. Not anymore. Not since they'd discovered other things to do in bed.

"Or in storerooms," she managed to say aloud between fits of giggling.

"Oh, honey, you're going to feel like poop tomorrow. Lucky for you, Rosalyn has the most wonderful herbal concoction to take away the better part of what's going to ail you. Trust me, I should know."

"Herb con . . . cocks." It was as far as she could get without dissolving in giggles.

Her mother had always told her the Fates had a wicked sense of humor. Judging by her life recently, wicked had to mean obsessed with penis humor.

First it was a Dick who'd been the reason she'd left MacQuarrie Keep. Then she'd bumped into a Peter, the knight who plagued her life.

"Now herbs with cocks," she managed to say aloud as she fought to catch her breath from all the giggling.

How eighth grade. Penis humor. The Fates had bombarded her with one annoying penis after another.

In fairness, not all annoying. One particular penis had been about as far from annoying as you could get.

"And there it is!" she squealed, overcome with giggles yet again as Drew approached.

"What have you done to her?" he demanded, taking her from Ellie's care into his own. "What's happened to you?"

"Wicked, wicked Fates," she gasped, muffling her words into his shoulder as she leaned against him. Oh, her stomach hurt from laughing so hard.

"It's the honey ale, Drew. You should have warned her or at least told the servers to back off," Ellie answered, sounding as if she fought laughter herself. "I'll bring up your mother's herbs in a bit. If you put the tea on for her first thing in the morning, she'll be just fine."

How lovely! She'd have Drew tonight followed by tea in the morning.

"Cock tea," she giggled into his shoulder, completely unable to stop herself.

Wicked, wicked Fates.

He'd finally had no choice but to pick up Leah and carry her to their room.

"Thank the Fates you've at last come to yerself again." He'd begun to wonder if she'd giggle all night. But, finally, by the time Ellie delivered the little pot of herbs, Leah had managed to get herself back in control.

"Wicked, wicked Fates," she said for perhaps the tenth time from her seat in the middle of their bed.

To his relief, laughter no longer accompanied the words that had set her off on a new round of hysteria each time she'd said them before.

Though in truth, he wasn't yet convinced that this new solemnity wasn't every bit as concerning as the laughter had been.

"Under the covers with you, dearling. You should get yerself some sleep to ward off the effects of the drink."

"Can't," she argued, pointing a hand over her shoulder. "Buttons."

Damnation. It was Ellie's gown she wore. Whatever had possessed his sister-in-law to insist on a line of tiny,

hand carved buttons running the back of the dress to fasten it closed was beyond all understanding. But insist she had. He remembered well the consternation it had caused the old man who'd carved them, his big fingers fumbling to make sure he pleased Caden's intended. Women.

A simple set of laces would have closed the frothy gown just as well and been a sight more practical. "Turn around, then."

She scurried from the center of the bed, perching at last on the edge, her hair pulled over her shoulder to expose the dratted buttons. His fingers felt overly large and clumsy as he fumbled to push the wood carvings through the tiny stitched holes. If this weren't Ellie's dress, he'd be tempted to rip the thing apart and toss it into the pit.

As it was, he had a healthy respect for his sister-in-law's temper. Too healthy to risk damage to her dress.

So he continued to fumble, growing more frustrated by the second.

The growing expanse of bare skin that greeted his success was no help, either. If anything, the more the dress opened, the harder it became for him to concentrate on the tedious work.

"That's enough," he announced, rising to his feet. "You can pull it off over yer head now." He hadn't intended his words to sound so gruff, but there was no help to be had for it. A man could only take so much.

With a crooked smile lifting one side of her mouth, she raised her arms above her head. "You take it off for me."

He shook his head and stepped back a pace. No matter what had passed between them before, he wouldn't be accused of taking advantage of a woman who was in her cups. Not even his wife.

"No? You won't even come over here and sit with me?"

The smile on her face grew as she slipped the gown off first one arm and then the other. Pushing the material to her waist, she leaned forward, one finger feathering suggestively over her exposed breast.

"What about now?"

The palms of his hands itched to cover the ripe beauties displayed for him. Again he shook his head in refusal, turning his back to reinforce his will. If he couldn't see what she offered .. .

"Go to sleep," he ordered, his voice raspy as the need took him.

Behind him, her feet hit the floor, a quiet shuffling splat against the stone. A rustle of cloth followed a moment later by a curtain of yellow froth floating down over his head.

"What in the name of all that's ..."

His plaid lifted and her hand, warm and gentle, stroked up his inner thigh and trailed around his hip, freezing the words in his mouth, cutting off even the workings of his brain which commanded the ability to speak.

Something akin to a gurgle was the only sound he had power to make as she seemed to float in front of him and her fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft.

"What about now," she whispered, stretching up on her tiptoes to run her tongue across his bottom lip.

She stood before him, wearing nothing but the stone hanging at her neck and a big smile.

Not even the strongest of men would have kept their resolution faced with such as that.

He grabbed her, both hands at her waist, and turned to the bed. He had no choice in the matter. Before he could even register his actions, she was wiggling beneath him, bare and wanting, making those contented little noises of hers that drove him wild.

In the next moment, his shirt was off, followed by lis plaid. Her hands kneaded their way from his waist to grasp his buttocks even as she locked her legs around his.

"Do you love me?"

Her question caught him by surprise. "Yer my wife," he answered at last, not sure he was able to say more.

"I didn't ask that." She pushed a lock of hair behind his ear and feathered her soft thumb over his cheek. "Do you love me? Am I your Soulmate?"

He could hardly give an answer he didn't know himself. He'd thought it might be possible, but how could he claim to love her when he'd betrayed her?

If she were his Soulmate, wouldn't he have fought harder for that which she wanted so badly? Wouldn't he have stood up to Blane's decision not to send men to help her grandparents?

He wanted her. That much he knew with no doubts. Wanted her in his bed and in his arms. Wanted her ability to heal him. Wanted her to her make him feel whole. Whole in body and in spirit.

Beneath him, she waited, looking up at him, so willing, so trusting, he thought for a brief instant his heart might break with the knowledge of his own treachery.

He could say none of those things. No more than he could bear to tell her that which she wanted most had been denied.

"I need you more than I've ever needed anything." It seemed to be enough to satisfy her. "It was the Fates themselves that set us together, Drew. It had to be, don't you think?" The Fates? Perhaps she was right. Wicked, wicked Fates.